


Washed Up Together (Clintasha One-Shot)

by xxprettyinpunkxx



Category: Hawkeye (Comics), The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Clint Needs a Hug, Clint gets fired, Clint is having a bad day, Don't worry, F/M, Fluff, Happy Ending, Kisses, Lucky is a good dog, Natasha is a stripper, No Smut, Sadly, Stripper AU, and a prostitute - Freeform, hugs !, implied sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-05
Updated: 2017-04-05
Packaged: 2018-10-15 00:27:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,263
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10546912
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xxprettyinpunkxx/pseuds/xxprettyinpunkxx
Summary: Maybe Clint's luck is starting to turn around.Aka, that Clintasha fic my girlfriend asked for and helped me write.





	

“Maybe you forgot, Mr. Barton, but this isn’t a place to fool around. I’m afraid we’re going to have to let you go.”

Let you go. _Let. You. Go._

It took a second to register in Clint’s brain that he was being fired. _Oh. Okay_. There was nothing to say. All he could do was watch CEO Coulson walk away from his desk. He left behind a little pink slip and the stack of complaints from coworkers about Barton’s bad attitude and all-around misconduct in the office. It wasn’t like he was breaking any actual rules. He was, surprisingly, pretty okay at his job. He just _hated_ office jobs. The only motivation he had was his paycheck. Six years in this depressing place was really gnawing away at Clint’s patience. He tried to be professional in the beginning, but _that_ didn’t last long. His coworkers were nothing more than friendly at first, but eventually it all just faded. Not a lot of people put up with Clint’s joking anymore, especially his angry humor. Everyone hated it now. He was written up when he joked, when he made a smart remark, when he mumbled to himself in the break room, when he stole other people’s food from the fridge- every time he did anything, it seemed. Honestly, it wouldn’t surprise him if someone reported him for breathing.

He didn’t have much on his desk except a picture of him and his dog, Lucky, so he grabbed that and his laptop, shoved all the papers off the desk and into the trash bin, and hauled ass out of there. He didn’t need to look through the complaints, he was already aware that he was a piece of shit and didn’t need a reminder, _thank you very much_. Tony waved at him on the way out, that stupid fucking smirk on his stupid fucking face. Clint flipped him off without even giving him a glance and stormed out, going straight to his car. He put his stuff on the passenger seat and sped off to his apartment.

It wasn't a great part of town and the building was falling apart, but it was home. He slammed the door to his apartment behind him. When he flipped on the lights, a bulb burst in the kitchen. _Great_. He let out a long string of curses and looked over at Lucky, who hadn’t moved from his spot on the bed. Maybe Lucky was having that kind of a day too. At least Clint could count on one thing: he was unlucky as all hell. Instead of replacing the lightbulb, or even giving it a second glance, he dropped his stuff on the counter and headed right back out the door. His white button down shirt was wrinkled and disheveled and his tie was uneven and on the verge of coming undone. He just didn’t care anymore. Off to the bar it was.

And that’s exactly where he ended up- a bar. Well, not really a bar, but more like a strip club. It had alcohol, though, so it got points for that. Clint ordered a bourbon and sat at the bar, staring at his drink and looking mopey. He sipped it and let the alcohol burn his throat.

A black, high-heeled shoe landed right by his drink. He looked up slowly, up lean, porcelain legs, thick thighs, a curved ass with black lacy panties, a taut stomach with curvy hips, perfect breasts covered by a matching lacy bra, and a pretty little head attached to a beautiful body. She had bouncy red hair curled to perfection and black winged eyeliner on piercing green eyes. She was the epitome of beauty. He must have been drooling a little bit. She was standing on the bar, right in front of him. She bent down, balancing herself on her heels.

“Hey there, cutie, wanna help a girl out? I know I can help _you_ out.” She winked suggestively. Her voice was smooth like caramel, with a little flirty edge to it. Clint had to remind himself that this was her job. She didn’t actually like him. No one actually liked him. He’d just gotten fired from the only job he’d had his whole career and now a stripper was asking for a loan? Sure, he’d get something in return, but he didn’t know if it was worth it. _Plus_ , he thought bitterly, _there are plenty of other nice looking guys here that this girl could get to know_. They probably had a lot more money anyway. He looked back down at his drink, looking disappointed. “I don’t know if I can help you…” He trailed off as he tried to respond with a name he didn’t know yet.

“Black Widow. But you can just call me Tasha.” Clint sipped his drink again. _Cool_ , he thought, deadpan. He stayed silent. He assumed Tasha would just walk away. Why would she hang around if she obviously wasn’t going to get anything from him? But she stayed. She actually sat on the bar, legs hanging off and everything, like they were best friends at the park. “What’s wrong, baby?”

Clint scoffed and rolled his eyes a little. “Don’t play that game with me. I’ve already had a rough day.”

Tasha dropped her smile _real damn fast_. “Hey, if you’re gonna be rude to me, I’ll happily get you kicked out. It doesn’t look like you have anyone to talk to and you’re obviously upset. Let me give you some sympathy, okay, asshole?” She made it very clear that she wasn’t taking shit from anybody, let alone from some lonely guy at the bar.

Clint was taken aback. He felt the immediate urge to apologize. “I’m sorry, I just...” He didn’t finish his sentence.

Tasha seemed satisfied with an apology. Her smile returned a little. “Alright, so what’s wrong, huh?”

Clint couldn’t help but smile a little. Was this girl really interested in him? It wasn’t like he was going to sleep with her. He just wanted a drink and this happened to be the closest place. Spending money on anything but the drink he was holding, especially considering _prostitute prices,_ would be a bad decision for a man who just lost his damn job. Tasha seemed nice enough, though- and not to mention hot as hell- so he’d humor her for now. “I got ‘let go.’ Which means fired, when you’re an asshole pretending to be a professional.”

“Professional _douchebag_ , more like.” Tasha smirked. She twisted one red curl around her finger and swung her legs back and forth. Clint honestly couldn’t tell if she had any genuine interest in him or if she was just doing her job. _Probably the latter, but a man can dream_. He tried to distract himself by taking a drink but her joke made him laugh and he accidentally spewed some of it on her. Well, at least he lived up to his curse of unluckiness.

She hopped off the counter looking slightly disgusted, but laughed anyway. “Alright, now you definitely owe me _something_.” She was being suggestive and Clint was definitely _not_ falling for it. Okay, maybe a little bit. He stood up, only a few inches taller with her in those six-inch heels, and looked around for something to clean her off with.

“I’m so sorry!” As the bartender was busy being useless with providing any sort of napkin, Clint decided to head for the bathroom. “I’ll grab a paper towel or something…”

Tasha grabbed his arm. “I’ll come with you.”

Clint stopped and turned around. “It’s fine, really, you don’t need to-”

“Please? I’ll be a good girl.” She winked, but then gave him a sweet smile and he almost melted. _Okay. Fine_. He nodded his head towards the bathroom to tell her she could come with and headed off again, the beautiful dancer in tow.

When they arrived to the _men’s_ bathroom, Clint was glad it was empty. Tasha still followed him in, which he thought was a little odd. He reminded himself to be less surprised the next time she did something crazy, because that seemed to be a reoccurring thing with her. He wondered how many other guys she’d followed into the bathroom and how many times she’d had sex in that tiny stall. Maybe that was the reason she was so comfortable following him in here.

Again, she sat on the counter while Clint collected a handful of damp paper towels and wiped his saliva off of her flawless skin. She used the time to be a flirt. “Are you always such a gentleman, or am I just lucky?”

“Well, my dog’s named Lucky, and you aren’t him. Maybe I’m just feeling nice.” He kept his eyes on what he was doing, purposefully not looking into hers or he knew he’d never be able to look away. He finished and threw away the paper towels, then continued to stand there, which lead to an awkward silence between the two of them. Clint could feel Tasha’s eyes on his, but he still didn’t look up. She held this power over him that he couldn’t explain.

Suddenly her hands were on his face, tilting his chin up so his eyes were locked on hers. Her smile seemed genuine, with her head cocked to the side just a tad. He thought she was adorable. She leaned in to kiss him suddenly. Clint hesitated, almost pulling back, but when her lips touched his, it felt like lightning. His heart was pounding a mile a minute now, and he was too concerned with where to put his hands and if they should be doing this in a bathroom and would she get fired or is this part of her job? When she finally pulled away, her red lipstick had transferred onto his lips and he probably looked like a damn _fool_ , starry-eyed and all.

“There’re rooms in the back.” She whispered into his ear, her warm breath sending shivers down his spine. He didn’t know what else to do but nod slowly as she wrapped her hand around his wrist and dragged him out of the bathroom.

She led the two of them through the crowd to the back of the club, and Clint could almost feel himself blushing. Anyone that saw the pair would obviously know that he was gonna… you know, sleep with a prostitute, which he felt a little weird about. She brought him down a hallway lined with closed doors and opened with first one. She locked it behind her and pushed Clint back onto the bed, doing her job as a performer and dancing to the incredibly loud music that was blaring through the club.

He almost felt sick to his stomach. It’s not that he didn’t _want_ to, because, fuck, only a complete idiot would pass up sleeping with the redhead, but she was going to _charge_ him and that made things feel a hell of a lot less special. But there she was, dancing in front of him, and then unclipping her bra. Being a guy, he really couldn’t help himself on that one. She approached the bed, and Clint wondered if it had been cleaned any time recently. He really hoped so. Before he had the chance to think on that any longer, she was undoing his tie. Tasha was obviously a very experienced- or at least skilled- sex worker, which he really started to notice when she wrapped the tie around the back of his neck and pulled him forward into another kiss. It made him feel possessive, jealousy pooling in his gut just thinking about all the other guys she’d been with. It was a question he both did and did not want the answer to. Everything about this felt wrong. He wanted it, but it felt wrong. Tasha was so gorgeous, he almost wished she wasn’t a prostitute. He wanted to have something real with her, to have sex that meant something, instead of being one of the dozens of guys to pay her for sex. After this, he would just be another paycheck to her, and he may feel good physically afterward, but how long would that last, anyway? He’d be down on money and a girl. And a job. Clint was barely even paying attention to her anymore. He just kept replaying everything that went wrong in his head. Everything sucked.

Tasha must have noticed his disinterest because she stopped immediately. “I’m sorry, am I doing something wrong here?” She was irritated, not concerned. She sat back on her bare feet; she’d kicked off her heels while Clint wasn’t paying attention.

Clint reached for his tie and sat up on the bed. “I don’t think I can do this.”

Tasha looked confused. “If you’re worried about the money, I-”

He cut her off. “It’s not only that, it’s just-” He sighed, running his fingers through his hair. “It’s a lot of things.” He rubbed the material of the tie with his thumb and index finger, focusing on the fabric and thinking. Tasha sat on the bed next to him, holding onto the edge and turning her head to the side to look at him. She was still topless but she didn’t seem to mind. Clint wasn’t even interested in looking anymore. That was a new low for him.

“I’m pretty washed up. I’ve done nothing in my life but go to college and work one dumb office job I just got _fired_ from, I’m behind on rent, I had so many dreams before, but now… It’s all gone. I don’t think I’ll ever get a job I actually like and considering I just got fired, I’d be surprised if I could land one that paid as much as my last one.” Clint shook his head. He suddenly remembered he was venting to a stripper, but Tasha was leaned in and listening, her eyebrows knit together in worry. She put a hand on his forearm and kept it there.

“I was gonna be a dancer, you know. Like, a _real_ dancer. A ballerina.” She smiled, remembering what was obviously a much happier time in her life. It quickly faded. “But I tore my achilles when I was younger and it never healed the same. I wasn’t allowed to dance like that again. The orphanage I grew up in was… disappointed, to say the least. I was making a lot of money for them doing big shows and everything so they started treating me pretty terribly. I used to be their golden girl, but... after that, I was just another orphan to them. I ran away at seventeen and, well... became a dancer. Not the kind I wanted, but it was still dancing, and it made money. I never really got out of it, obviously. It’s kind of hard to get a real job when you have no education and your only talent is getting people’s dicks hard.” She laughed coldly. Clint gave her a sad smile. “I’m just as washed up as you…” Tasha realized she didn’t know his name.

Clint was quick to fill her in. “Clint.” He awkwardly stuck out his hand to shake hers.

She tried it out. “Clint.” She nodded and a real smile tugged at her soft lips.

“Well, I think you could do a whole lot more. I mean, you could be a model and make twice the money you make here. You’re gorgeous.”

Tasha blushed at his compliment. “Thank you, but I don’t know about that. I’d love to... but this is all I’ve known since I ran away.” She chewed on her lip, considering it.

Clint suddenly turned to her and put his hands on her shoulders. “Hey, do what you want if it makes you happy. But if it doesn’t, then it’s not worth doing.”

She threw her arms around his neck. His eyes widened. Was she really hugging him? This was a really off day for Clint. He felt tears on his shoulder and he hugged her back.

“Come on, maybe we can do this together.” Clint kissed her neck and she pulled back from the hug, looking more genuine. He grabbed her bra and handed it to her so they could get out of there. “Let’s go.”

 

\---

 

“Clint, come on, you’re gonna be late!” Tasha yelled from the kitchen. Lucky whined and sat by his bowl.

“Yeah, well, I wouldn’t be late if _someone_ would stop forgetting to feed the damn dog.” Clint walked into the kitchen in his uniform. He found it slightly embarrassing, but Tasha always told him he was adorable in it. _Her little boy scout_.

“That’s totally not the reason you’re late.” Tasha smirked, referring to what they were doing in bed this morning when Clint _should’ve_ been getting ready. She leaned against the counter with her coffee cup, wearing nothing but one of Clint’s oversized shirts.

“Yeah, yeah. Shut it.” He pretended to be annoyed, but he was grinning too. Lucky stopped whining and started barking and Clint threw the rest of the cold pizza he was eating into his bowl. He wagged happily and went to town on it. “Where’s my- Oh, you have it.” Clint turned around and found Tasha holding his purple bandana. She got up on her tiptoes and wrapped it around Clint’s neck, tying it into a little knot. “Thanks, baby.” He held Tasha’s waist. “I hope I don’t get torn apart by the kids today. Remember what happened last month?” Clint laughed. He came home with bruises that lasted a week, but Tasha’s teasing lasted much longer. Maybe they took that game of dodgeball a little _too_ far.

It had been nine months since that night at the bar, when Tasha came home with him and slept on his couch. Lucky welcomed her with a few licks to the face- if Lucky liked her, then she was a keeper for sure. After that, Tasha went in search of a modeling job and landed her first shoot only a week later. She stopped sleeping on the couch and started sleeping in his bed- _their_ bed. They went to Tasha’s apartment one day and brought her stuff to Clint’s. It didn’t really feel like she ever officially moved in with him. One day Clint was living alone and the next he was living with the gorgeous stripper he picked up at a bar. The night they finally had sex, it wasn’t _just sex_. It was everything Clint had wanted with Tasha all along. He wasn’t a paycheck, he was her boyfriend, and after, when they were lying in bed, she told him she _loved_ him, and it was _perfect_. Actually, everything was perfect now. Clint found himself smiling more than brooding. He was happy. And Tasha was happy, too- that was what mattered.

After all those years working a boring office job, Clint finally found a job he really enjoyed. He taught archery lessons during the school year, and when he wasn’t doing that, he was a counselor at a boy scout summer camp- hence the uniform. He had a job he loved and a girl who loved him.

Clint walked to the door and grabbed his keys, Tasha at his heels. She kissed him on the cheek and then on the lips. “See you tonight, sexy.” Tasha winked and closed the door behind him.

Clint smiled as he walked out of the apartment building and down to his car. He couldn’t stop thinking about her. Maybe his terrible luck was starting to change.


End file.
